


Heart of the Truth

by PallanMinerva



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Fluff, angst & fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PallanMinerva/pseuds/PallanMinerva
Summary: A spin-off of The Saga of Shirou's Summons in which Shirou summons Kiyohime as his Servant for the 5th Grail War, and flickering embers roar to a blaze.
Relationships: Shirou Emiya & Kiyohime | Berserker
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17
Collections: The Saga of Shirou's Summons -- Entire Collections





	1. Chapter 1

She did not know what material this shirt was made from. The Grail had told her much, but it was a mess of concepts and ideas that she could occasionally associate with a word that Anchin-sama spoke. Yet, it wasn't uncommon for her to just let something she didn't understand pass by. He would tell her if something was truly important. But whatever this fabric was... she wished that he had told her about it before. The texture was reminiscent of the silk robes that she used to be clothed in, except that where silk was cold, his shirt was warm. Part of that might have been that it was Anchin-sama's shirt, but the other part was definitely the mysterious fiber it had been woven from.

It felt very nice to her. It was just too bad that Anchin-sama's beautifully-textured shirt was marred by the large bloodstain splashed across both the front and the back.

Her thoughts grew dark as she remembered the other night. Anchin-sama had asked her to forgive Archer, because he was their ally and his attack on the graveyard was likely just an accident that her Master had been caught in the periphery of. But she knew what it meant. She saw it in that man's gray eyes—a burning hatred all too similar to the one that had once consumed her.

This man wanted to kill Anchin-sama.

She grit her teeth and clenched the shirt tightly, nearly tearing it to pieces as anger surged through her. This disgusting creature who had absolutely no right to even be within fifty feet of her Anchin-sama wanted to extinguish him from the face of this world. She had to put on a pretty smile around him because her Master asked, but deep down she knew that she would flay his skin and crucify him with his own skeleton before burning him alive if he _ever_ touched a single _hair_ on her Anchin-sama.

_I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I HATE HIM_

She let the fury run its course through her, imagining ever-darker ways of killing the man before she finally was able to release it. She sighed as her entire body untensed. The storm of rage gave way to the waters of peace, and she reacquainted herself with the calm dignity that she normally kept. Anchin-sama didn't deserve to see that side of her...

_Unless he lies._

She shook her head clear from those thoughts. They were like little ants that tried to dig tunnels through the bedrock of her trust. She believed in him, she trusted him, she _needed_ him like nothing else in her life. She had to take good care of him, so he would stay with her always. So she placed the blood-stained shirt in the washer and turned it on, having already loaded it with all of his other clothes. Now...

...she needed to refresh herself.

She ran to his bedroom, lifting the robes of her kimono to allow her to move faster. The screen door opened smoothly, indicative of how much care Anchin-sama took to make his house as clean and presentable as possible despite being its only resident. Kiyohime swooned as she entered his room, her eyes searching every corner for signs of his presence. He was not at home, so she was not expecting to see her Master in body, but it was his _spirit_ that she sought.

The room could have been generously called sparse, but reminiscent of a monk's cell was closer to the mark. No decorations hung on the walls, and the the only personal touch was a bookshelf with a few books on Japanese law and what was likely some shounen manga. Her heart warmed however when she saw there was enough space on the floor for a futon that could easily hold the two of them inside, an idea that made her hug herself in delight. Just the thought of being able to spend the night in her Anchin's arms...

The fantasy distracted her for a moment before she refocused herself. Long locks of turquoise hair fluttered behind her as she rushed to the closet, opening it as delicately as if it was the case of a priceless artifact. As she hoped, it was filled with Anchin-sama's clothes. There wasn't much that caught her eye apart from a dark pinstripe jacket, something which she quickly took. It was large; the coattails reached down to just above the backs of her knees, and the sleeves dangled long past her hands. But as she put it on, she couldn't help but smile brightly.

She could smell him in it.

It was faint, as it had been washed many times and the scent of detergent and fabric softener permeated every stitch, but it was there. He smelled like, of all things, iron. It was very peculiar to her, but who was she to question her Anchin-sama's natural body odor? It was just another quality of his that made him so attractive, just another item on the list of reasons that she loved him.

She wrapped herself in the jacket tightly, taking its scent in as well as the shadow of his anima left behind in it. It was so warm to her, like he was right there, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She needed this so badly. He was kind to her, but he wasn't very good at showing affection so far. She was hesitant to get a little more aggressive, as their relationship had only just started, but as the days passed and he continued to feel so far away... she was reconsidering that.

She softly closed the closet door and wrapped the jacket even tighter around her so that it was in as much contact with her as possible. She did up a few of the buttons so that it wouldn't fall off of her, and then walked out of his room, closing the door behind her. He would probably want something when he got home, right? Perhaps it was time for her to get started on dinner. He was definitely the better cook between them, but she could at least begin the preparations, no?

She twirled in happiness, the jacket lifting up like a skirt around her kimono. She was so happy to have been incarnated in this fashion, and she definitely knew what she was going to wish for on the Grail when they won. She could already see it: a beautiful honeymoon in a hot spring resort, a private outdoor bath reserved for the two of them, the moonlight reflecting in his amber eyes, the way that he would whisper her name—

She was fantasizing so strongly that she failed to notice how she had drifted off to the side. She unceremoniously hit the side of a door, accidentally slamming it open as she fell, holding her forehead in pain. Well, it didn't _really_ hurt, but the shock of the impact made her stop. She quickly checked that nothing on the jacket had torn, and sighed in relief when she found its condition preserved. Then she looked up and noticed the room she had stumbled into.

It was plain, even moreso than Anchin-sama's room. There was only a single object that decorated the room at the far end: a small shrine. It made her stop in her tracks. Anchin-sama never mentioned anything like this, and he never gave her the impression of a religious man, like—

_Anchin-sama—!_

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the thunder that rang inside her mind. It took her a few moments, but she eventually got her train of thought got back on its proper rails. She forced herself to focus on the shrine, taking a few steps towards it. It definitely had all the features of a simple _butsudan_ , something dedicated to family members that had passed away. There were only a few decorations: a few agarwood incense sticks in a small porcelain cup, a larger porcelain bowl filled with sand, a tiny empty cup with a matchbook next to it, a small gong, two candles the color of absinthe, and a framed picture on the upper shelf of a man she didn't recognize. The man had spiky black hair, and though his gray eyes weren't pointed in the direction of the camera, she could see that they did not hold much of a spark of life in them.

He might have been handsome had he been smiling, but unlike the brightness that radiated from Anchin-sama, everything about this man felt like a black hole. Something designed to drain its surroundings of life and joy. Her impression solidified; the world was better off without—

_No, no, no! He's important to Anchin-sama! This isn't right! He deserves all of the respect that I give to Anchin-sama..._

Kiyohime settled her fears and self-recriminations. She had been raised to be a proper woman, and she had been carefully trained in paying her respects at a shrine. She kneeled in front of the _butsudan_ , taking care to properly arrange her kimono to not slip off as she sat, and bowed to the shrine.

There was a matchbook next to the incense sticks, from which she removed and struck a single match aflame. She lit the two candles, then blew the matchstick out and placed it in the small cup next to the incense. Taking two incense sticks out, she lit each one of them with the handles, then took both in one hand and summoned her fan to dampen the flame on the end to an ember. The faint spark emitted equally faint smoke, and its scent reminded her of an endless forest hanging on the edge of winter. But its light spoke to her of the light in Anchin-sama's eyes, and she let his imaginary gaze wash away the cold.

Placing both incense sticks in the larger pot of sand, she rang the gong with her knuckle, then started to bow repeatedly as she murmured the appropriate prayers for the deceased under her breath. It had been a long time since she had mourned or even paid respects to any of the deceased. She had a faint memory from her early childhood of a funeral held for a great-uncle, and not understanding why some of her family members were crying. The shrine they made for him in their home was where she had been taught to perform this ceremony, one of the only times her parents would ever touch her.

_Why doesn't Anchin-sama touch me why why why_

Her hands grew tight as they interlaced with each other, and she tensed with the thought. It hurt like spikes were growing out of her veins and arteries, but she had to let that go because if she held onto it she would turn ugly and Anchin-sama shouldn't have to see her in her ugly form because he's a good person he's so good so kind so warm _so warm_

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

She thought back to when he had taught her that, holding her hand gently in his larger one, and smiled. He was so patient with her. Every day she thanked the gods for having brought them together. A few more sets of prayers, one clap of her hands, and one last bow, and she was finished. She exhaled deeply, all the way from her core, letting the emotions run out from her. Then she opened her eyes to stare once more at the framed picture.

He was important to Anchin-sama somehow. She wondered how. She wondered why. She never questioned anything he told her because he did not seem like the kind of man to lie to her. He couldn't hide anything. He could barely give an excuse to his guardian ( _cursed intrusive annoying fly leave us_ ) on why she had suddenly appeared in his life. But she wondered why he didn't tell her about this man.

A footstep, a thump right next to her. She turned, and he had dropped his bag and kneeled right next to her. Her eyes widened.

"A-Anchin-sama!" She had to smile for him, she should have been starting dinner already, she should have greeted him when he came in, no, no! "W-Welcome home! Did you want to take a bath while I—"

His serious expression made her stop, and she let the forced smile go. He went through his own process of lighting the incense sticks and paying his respects, and she was silent and restrained as he did so. He was elegant and graceful, his movements were precise, and his voice set her heart aflutter, but she kept her desires for him discreet.

He finished in a few minutes, and after he bowed one last time, he remained kneeling with his eyes closed for some silent moments. She almost reached out to touch him, just to feel his skin on hers, but again she resisted the urge. He would take her when he needed her, and she believed that he would need her in that way one day.

"Thank you," his voice was soft, but it felt like it filled the room. "I hadn't come here in a long time. I'm glad that you reminded me to visit the old man."

"Who was he, Anchin-sama?" She felt blind for the first time. This man that she had admired, that she had obsessed over, that she dreamed of... he was human too. He was so wonderful, and yet he had things that he regretted and cried over. She never asked, she never thought to, because Anchin was perfect! But...

"He was..." he started, "well, he was my adopted father. He was my hero. The man who taught me so much... I wouldn't be the person I am without him."

"Then he must have been a wonderful person," she replied, shuffling closer to him.

He snorted.

"Not really," he said disdainfully. "He couldn't cook to save his life, he wasn't here half of the year, and most of the time he just sat around reading. Nothing interesting either, nothing like a satisfying mystery novel, just books on philosophy. I look at them occasionally now, and they're very thick and he scribbled notes all over them. They..."

Anchin-sama stared even deeper at the framed picture of the man, then sighed.

"Well, anyway, he wasn't that great, but I admire him a lot for the person he tried to be. I got my dream from him."

"What do you dream of, Anchin-sama?" It felt like an obvious reply, like he had been asking for her to say that question, but he hadn't. He just sighed again.

"I want to become an Ally of Justice," the words fell out of his mouth like a derailing train. "I want to save everyone I can. I want to make everyone that I can smile."

The statement hung in the air, accompanied by a pregnant silence.

"That's beautiful," she finally said.

"Most people just laugh at it." It felt like he was trying to brush her compliment off, but she persisted.

"No, Anchin-sama, I mean it," she moved a little closer to him, almost tempted to touch his shoulder. "It's so... meaningful. To me, anyone who truly believes in something like that is a wonderful person. I..."

She wiped at her eyes. She hadn't realized she had started to tear up, but somehow that ideal touched her heart. She had never thought of anyone besides Anchin-sama as important, and she still believed in that. But the fact that he did, that he was such a good person...

"Thank you," he said, and put his hand over hers. His touch was electrifying, and she almost gasped at it, but she had to savor it for every second that she could. His skin reminded her of the feeling of her lone silk scarf, a treasure she had been gifted as a young girl. It was warm and comforting and, though she could smell iron, she felt safe.

When he frowned, though, an icy terror leapt through her. His hand moved from hers to brush the sleeve of his jacket. He asked her, "Are you cold? Should I take you out shopping for more clothes? I'm sorry, I never thought about how you must feel alone all day here."

Her sense of his warmth returned, redoubled. He was so absolutely perfect.

_I love you, Anchin-sama._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following is the original author's note from when this was first published in _The Saga of Shirou's Summons_ on November 3rd, 2019.
> 
> I've been thinking about writing her for a while, like always trying to dig through the shallow pond of a person that Nasu, TYPE-MOON, and DelightWorks gives us to find the reservoir of personality hidden beneath. She's gonna get an arc, and one thing I will spoil for you is that she is not going to have a romantic relationship with Shirou. It's going to be a lot more wholesome. This will be one of the less dark arcs.
> 
> I accidentally made a Discord fanserver. The door's [open](https://discord.gg/GkXXAYE).
> 
> Once more, my deepest thanks goes out to **Aberron** , **TungstenCat** , and **Exstarsis**. Have I plugged them enough by now? No? Got it. Abe writes a wonderful Mass Effect story and is actually working on a Fate/stay night fanfiction right now. **TungstenCat** and **Exstarsis** both recently published more new works, including (and I'm deeply and extremely honored by this), fanfiction of my Kiara arc. They each wrote a smutfic around her, and you can actually read them in a story order. Start with **TungstenCat** 's _[A Long Night, Short Lived](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13417950/1/A-Long-Night-Short-Lived)_ , and finish with **Exstarsis** 's _[The Mermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192539)_. They are excellent, and the fact that they haven't gotten enough attention before I plugged them is sad. Go check them out.
> 
> The ending theme for this chapter is _[Houkou Kaiki](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0st-aJH_A6k)_ by **Morrigan**.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Kiyohime was smiling, a beacon of hope in the dim street.

"You need to be more careful, Master," she chided, just as a good wife would.

"I couldn't just stand there and let Assassin hurt you," he replied. The warm amber gaze he fixed on her made her chest ache as the fire inside of her danced with happiness.

"You're supposed to let me take care of that," she protested, though her heart wasn't in it. Anchin-sama was _relying_ on her. Though she was disappointed in herself for allowing him to be hurt in her place, she couldn't help but admire his bravery and his will.

"I can't let you," he said, his tone resolute. "Girls aren't supposed to fight."

She nearly swooned. He was the dashing man she had always wished for who would protect her no matter what, and now she had the chance to be his supporting pillar. Whether or not he was able to communicate that reliance to her wasn't important, for she knew it was there.

_My dreams have never felt so close._

As they crossed the asphalt, he once again attempted to take his weight off of her and back onto his feet. Once again, he nearly stumbled before she caught him, continuing to maintain her gentle but firm hold.

"You don't have to carry me the whole time, you know..." he grumbled. In response, she tightened her grip on the arm she had placed around her neck to steady him.

"I want to, Anchin-sama," she replied happily. "I want to help you, and... you feel nice."

It was the truth. The rough cotton of his sleeve sliding against her neck sent shivers down her spine. She hoped he didn't feel her shake, she didn't want him to think of her as anything but a bastion for him, solid and reliable.

"Well..." he held out the word before sighing. "Okay. I won't stop you."

She nearly squealed but managed to hold it in. They were making such _progress!_ Maybe soon he'd finally let her cook for him. Even if he cooked food fit to make the Buddha cry, it wasn't as if she didn't know anything... and maybe she could show him a thing or two! As his wife, she really ought to be able to welcome him home with a bath and his favorite meal... something she'd have to learn sometime soon.

They weren't far from home now, and she had to take care of him. His shoulder needed to be washed and bandaged, he needed to be fed (and _bathed!)_ , and she was going to be there for him every second she could.

_This Kiyohime will never abandon you, Anchin-sama._

**[A BODY OF BLADES]**

Shirou sighed as he stepped through the doorway, a mumbled "I'm home" passing through his lips with a wince. The fracture in his thigh was not being kind to him, and even with his Servant's help and aid the wound in his shoulder had reopened.

As he heard light footsteps come down the hall, accompanied by the smell of miso soup, he took a deep breath and prepared for said Servant's reaction.

"Welcome home An—" Kiyohime stopped in her tracks as she spotted the tatters of his clothing, her expression coloring with shock. "What happened?!"

"Nothing—" He hissed as he leaned at the wrong angle and felt the crack in his femur grow ever so slightly. "Nothing, really. I just... got into a bit of a fight with Rider." He slowly made his way up from the entrance to sit on a nearby chest.

"What fight? Weren't you at school?" She shoved her tray to one side, some of the soup spilling out over the side. "You were supposed—you promised you would be safe!" A spark of flame lit in golden eyes, then softened. "Why didn't you use a command seal? Why didn't you call me?" she whispered plaintively.

"I didn't want to drag you into danger along with me just because I made a mistake," he said. "You don't deserve that."

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. The weight of her gaze felt uncomfortable as the silence stretched between them. Then she gave a fond sigh of exasperation.

"That's just like you, I suppose." Her gaze warmed as she smiled, before she sprang into action. "Okay, stay there! I'll get the bath running and get something you can use as a splint! Don't make it any worse!"

As she ran back down the hallway, he sighed.

_It's bad... but it's not that bad, I think. There's no need to make this much of a fuss over a flesh wound._

Once she returned with some bandage tape and two shinai about the length of his leg, he said as much. As she taped them onto his leg to keep it straight, she huffed.

"Whether it is or isn't bad doesn't matter, Anchin-sama," she said, her golden eyes shimmering with concern and warmth. "I want to help you. I don't like seeing you hurt. Will you let me do this, if not for you, for my own satisfaction?"

He took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be fine come tomorrow, just so you know."

"Tomorrow isn't here yet," she said as she stood up, brushing dust off of the lower half of her kimono. "So for now, you have to let me help you."

He couldn't help but smile.

"If that's what you want, I won't stop you."

"Yes," she said as she took a hold of his arm and gently helped him up. "It very much is."

**[WITH BLOOD OF IRON]**

Shirou lay back as gently as he could, letting the bathwater cocoon him. As he predicted, the fracture had healed overnight, but with a new day came a new wound.

"Shirou-sama?" said a voice that he was not particularly keen on hearing right now. "Can I come in?"

"No," he stated firmly, glancing at the door to see her silhouette on the shoji.

"Please?" she asked again.

"My answer isn't going to change," he said with a frown. "You're not allowed in the bathroom while I'm using it."

"But it's the duty of—"

" _No._ "

There was a sigh of crushed dreams, and the silhouette lowered, sitting down and leaning against what was likely the nearby cabinet. She pulled her legs to her chest and sat there, and after a few moments of silence Shirou turned forward again. He hadn't come just to bathe, but to heal, and though companionship was welcome, he was very experienced in letting silence knit his wounds.

"How are you feeling?" Kiyohime asked after the water had dimmed to lukewarm. He grunted as he shrugged, making the muscles in his back complain loudly.

"Well," he said after straightening out. "I'm feeling well enough, I think."

"How's your chest?" she continued. He absently fingered the new bruise on his abdomen, trying hard not to touch at his sternum. It was still healing from when Lancer had tried to shatter it to pieces with a single punch. When he tried to inhale deeply, it yelled at him for his foolishness, and so he kept his breaths short and shallow.

"...could be worse," he finally answered. "Why?"

"Don't ask me why," she chided. "I'm checking up on you. You know I support you and appreciate what you're trying to do, but I... I worry about you."

" _Why?"_

_His guardian's hazel eyes darkened as she splashed a cotton ball with disinfectant and not-too-lightly dabbed it on his skin. He hissed at the stinging pain._

" _Because, you idiot," Taiga said, "I care about you."_

"Oh," he replied in the present, with the same tone he had in his memories. He wasn't sure how else to respond, and his Servant didn't pounce on the silence.

"Okay," he said after a few moments. "I won't stop you."

Another silence descended.

"Thank you."

For some reason, her tone didn't feel as warm as it used to.

**[A MIND OF STEEL]**

She had never gotten many chances to practice kneeling in seiza, something she was regretting immensely right now. Her head was bowed the lowest it had ever gone; if she looked anywhere but the ground, she would see his blood. She knew where his body was, crumpled and nearly destroyed, by the sound of the much-too-occasional wheeze that ruptured the night.

"Please..." she begged. "Take the grail, I don't care anymore. Just save him. I can't bear to see him near death again."

Though her voice shook, it was firm in intent. Even as her heart beat so quickly and loudly, an erratic percussion banging against her inner ear, she knew that this was the only way she could save him.

"Hmph," came the curt reply from Archer's Master. Though they may have had an alliance, she was a magus in the end, and she would not give up this service for free. "Fine. But though he still holds his seals, you will be my Servant in practice, understood?"

Of course she understood. What other option did she have? Even the burning scarlet of devotion that covered her eyes fluctuated without purpose or direction. She scrambled and clawed for any possibility to save him. The fire in her wanted to lash out and burn everything. The frustration of never being able to protect him grew hotter and hotter, kept in check only by the cold realization that, no matter how much she tried to protect him, she couldn't truly change anything as long as he continued to actively put himself in harm's way. There was no rage that could keep Shirou Emiya alive against his will.

"Yes," she replied, choking back tears. "I understand. I'll work for you, I'll win this war for you, just please... please don't let him die."

And so she bent her knee to the woman named Tohsaka, the one person on their side with the power to heal him. She would suffer the absolute indignity of working alongside the Archer who did nothing but belittle her and her Master. A man whose very presence ground on her in its unrecognizable familiarity.

A man whose typically-insufferable gaze stared down at her with the smallest hint of pity, an unfathomable emotion coming from _him_ of all people.

Kiyohime couldn't bring herself to look as Tohsaka moved to Shirou's side. Red light filled the area as Tohsaka upheld her end of the promise, but Kiyohime's relief was drowned out by the sickening claws of guilt, shame, and a nauseating feeling that churned her stomach that she refused to put a name to.

Archer took a slow step forward and kneeled closer to her prostrated form. She flinched as his hand lightly pressed on her shoulder.

"He isn't the kind of boy to realize that other people value him," he said quietly. "He's dragging you down with him. You don't deserve this."

"I don't need nor want your sympathy," she almost hissed as she met his gaze. "You have no right to judge him _or_ what's between us."

"You'd be surprised," he muttered, and then walked back to his Master's side. She wished that her stomach wasn't sinking as his words settled in her mind. She wished that she hadn't listened to him at all.

Most of all... as she stared at her Master's pale face, she feared that he might be right.

**[AND A HEART OF GLASS]**

The door closed behind her, its crash making her wince. A violent sound at such a late hour was sure to wake Shirou up, betraying her entire purpose for going out in the first place. She paused for a moment, her ears keen to detect any reaction, and picked up the murmur of shuffling from the living room.

_Please don't be awake..._

After taking off her shoes, she quickly made her way down the hall. Her footsteps were soft against the tatami flooring, but she knew from experience that _if_ he were there, he could hear her coming. As she reached the door to the living room, she inhaled.

_Please, I beg you, don't—_

There he was, hunched over the kitchen counter, gritting his teeth as he wrapped _another_ bandage around his arm, which was already in a makeshift sling. She clenched her fists as she took a step inside, and his gaze flickered to her momentarily before looking back down at his _new_ injury.

"Shirou," she said softly, her energy draining further as the fire receded to embers and sparks. "I'm home."

"Welcome home," he replied without looking at her again. "How's Tohsaka?"

"...safe." She stepped inside and approached the counter he was hunched over, waiting for him to look at her.

"That's good," he said politely. He tied off the bandage, a grimace striking his face as he tightened the knot. "I hope Archer treated you well."

The skin of a servant was infinitely tougher than that of a normal human, but her fingernails felt as though they were about to cut through and draw blood as her fists shook.

"Well enough," she said, forcing them open again as she leaned on the counter, bringing her eyes level with him. She inhaled deeply. "What happened?"

"I... bumped into the fake priest," he said after a few moments. "We got into a fight and he broke my arm, but eventually he ended up letting me go."

 _He went out again. He went out again and got himself hurt_ again.

"Why?" she asked quietly, gripping onto the countertop to steady herself. Her vision was swaying. "Why did you do it? Why did you go out again? You were supposed to be resting."

"I had to," he stated simply. "There were three more Servants out there, and I needed to make sure that they wouldn't hurt anyone else while you and Tohsaka were busy."

"But why?" she repeated. "Why did it have to be _you?"_

"No one else can do it but me." He finally looked her in the eye, and his gaze was resolute, but she could see the way he was looking past her.

"Why not?" she insisted. "Why can't you just let them fight each other?"

"They could involve other people," he said. "Innocent people. I can't sit around doing nothing anymore. If the previous war caused the Fire, I can't let that happen again."

"Okay, just... please... let me protect you," she begged, pinpricks in her eyes as she tried to hold the frustration back. "If you stay put and let Tohsaka and I win, then we can finish this war and nothing like that fire will ever happen again. If you want, I can even go out with you after my patrols with her. I just need you to wait for me. _Please_."

"Tohsaka's a proper magus. She can keep you safe, and I can't. There are other things I need to do, and..." He grimaced and shook his head. "I can't let you be hurt. You don't deserve to be hurt because of me."

Her hands smashed into the countertop so hard it splintered, and through the crimson that was beginning to tint her vision, she could see him take a step back, staring at her in shock.

 _"WHY?!"_ she screamed, hot tears leaving streaks on her cheeks. "Why do you think you're _helping me_ by being hurt instead of me?! Why can't you understand that hurts me just as much, if not more?!"

She forced herself to meet his gaze again, and her insides twisted at how he looked at her as if he didn't understand what she was saying. As if this was the first time anyone had said something like this to him.

"What is wrong with you, Shirou?" she pleaded. "Why do you have to be the one who gets hurt? Why do you have to fight instead of me? Why do you have to fight _at all?!"_

"Because—"

"No!" she interrupted, taking long strides around the counter until she turned the corner to face him again. "The answer is _you don't!_ You're a Master, I'm the Servant! I protect you, I fight for you! I completely threw away my dignity just so we can be happy together for the little time we have left! Why do you insist on _hurting me_ like this?!"

She took another step closer to him and choked on the next words she tried to say. She wiped at her eyes.

"Don't you understand?" she asked, sniffling. "I gave away my pride, my own wish, my chance of a happy future with you... I gave away all that so you wouldn't have to go out anymore. You wouldn't have to come back injured, near-dead on your feet. And the second I turn my back..."

She threw her arms out at him.

"You come back like this! _Again!_ Why do you insist on abusing my trust, over and over and over again? What is _wrong_ with you?!"

The silence stretched for what felt like hours. She put her head in her hands, trying and failing to hold back her sobs. The fire was in agony, desperately wanting to be unleashed, but without an outlet it just seethed under her skin.

_Even Anchin never hurt me like this..._

For a while, he did nothing, and she leaned on the countertop again to prop herself up, still unable to face him as she cried. Then, with not even a breath, he stepped around her, and she looked up and watched as he silently sat down at the dinner table, kneeling and staring at the wall. She had always wished to be the one in the kitchen, having him wait like this for her to make him dinner. But now...

She took a shuddering breath, and then followed him and sat across the table from him. His cheeks were twitching.

"If..." he started, and then stopped. He put his hands on the table, and she noticed that they were trembling. "If Kiritsugu Emiya wasn't out in the rubble without a Servant, desperately searching for someone to save... I wouldn't be here. If I'm not the one who saves them..."

His hands clenched into fists.

"Would anyone know that there was someone to save at all?"

She desperately wished that she could just agree with him and believe those statements unconditionally. But the fire had coiled around her heart and tightened with every breath. He had hurt her too much to brush this aside.

"While you're searching for other people to save," she said quietly after a few moments, "I'm trying to save _you._ "

"I've already been saved, though," he said, with the saddest smile she'd ever seen. "I have to pass that onto others."

She reached a hand across the table and gently took his.

"Just because you were saved once," she said slowly, refusing to let go of his gaze, "doesn't mean you can't be saved again. A hero can be saved, too."

After a few moments, he looked away, and she worried that she still hadn't gotten through to him. Then he sighed.

"If that's what you want..." he said quietly, "I won't stop you."

His hand gripped onto hers a little more tightly, and with it she breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't over, but it was the first step.

She hoped she would be able to see him take the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to new and old readers alike. If you've been reading _The Saga of Shirou's Summons_ and have come here from there, then you know how it is we work around here. For the new people, though, just so we're clear: this is not a fully-fledged story with a complete and cohesive timeline. You are looking at one-shots connected to each other, and that is how I write. I will be updating this sporadically, whenever my muse decides that she wants to work on our favorite dragon priestess.
> 
> I know what I promised in the last chapter said that this was supposed to be a wholesome story. I apologize for having broken that promise. My muse was captured by a particular scene, the only good scene, from _When Supernatural Battles Became Commonplace_. If you look that up, you'll know when you find it. In every other regard it is a trashy harem romcom, but this one scene was the gem in the pile of garbage, and it was well worth it.
> 
> Thanks to my Loresingers for all of their help, in particular for this chapter. It was able to happen because they were excited by just a little bit of rambling from me and we ended up bouncing around ideas for three hours together until we came up with the framework for this chapter, and then when I continually got stuck on what to do, they helped fill in the gaps and made it much easier for this to come together. Seriously, my writing would be nothing without them, so I am very thankful to them.
> 
> Your ending theme is [_Shoes of Glass_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cY-LUqslhuM) by **Kanako Ito**.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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